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WHEN passion's trance is overpast,
It were enough to feel, to see
Thy soft eyes gazing tenderly,
And dream the rest and burn and be
The secret food of fires unseen,
Couldst thou but be as thou hast been.
After the slumber of the year
The woodland violets reappear;
And sky and sea, but two, which move
To. Published by Mrs. Shelley, 1824.
THE flower that smiles to-day
All that we wish to stay,
Tempts and then flies.
What is this world's delight?
Virtue, how frail it is!
Friendship how rare!
Love, how it sells poor bliss
But we, though soon they fall,
Survive their joy and all
Which ours we call.
Whilst skies are blue and bright,
Whilst eyes that change ere night
Whilst yet the calm hours creep,
Mutability. Published by Mrs. Shelley, 1824. ii. 2 how, Boscombe MS. || too, Mrs. Shelley, 1824. 5 though soon we, or so soon they, Rossetti conj.
FAR, far away, O ye
Vultures, who build your bowers
Withered hopes on hopes are spread!
Dying joys, choked by the dead,
Will serve your beaks for prey
Many a day.
THE waters are flashing,
Lines. Published by Mrs. Shelley, 1824.
The Fugitives. Published by Mrs. Shelley, 1824.
And she cried, "Ply the oar;
Put off gayly from shore!
As she spoke, bolts of death
Mixed with hail specked their path
O'er the sea.
And from isle, tower and rock,
"And fear'st thou, and fear'st thou?
And see'st thou, and hear'st thou ?
And drive we not free
O'er the terrible sea,
One boat-cloak did cover
While around the lashed Ocean,
In the court of the fortress
Like a bloodhound well beaten
The bridegroom stands, eaten
On the topmost watch-turret,
And with curses as wild
He devotes to the blast
The best, loveliest, and last